Work Text:
“Vespa, darling? Are you almost done in there? Because I of all people can appreciate attention to detail, but we do have to leave within the next ten minutes.”
Vespa scowls at her reflection in the dinky little mirror hanging on the wall of her room, narrowing her eyes like it’ll do anything to tone down the graphic liner radiating from them. The makeup Buddy’d done for her earlier is flashy in a way she doesn’t usually go for, cool silvers and jewel tones cutting around and over each other in swooping angular patterns, but she’ll begrudgingly admit it’s well done. Not that she could exactly appreciate the craftsmanship while Buddy was putting it on her- no, her dumbass brain’d had a field day fizzling into static over everything else in that moment, from the intense glint in Buddy’s eyes to the way her tongue poked out of the corner of her mouth when she concentrated to the gentle, barely-there pressure of manicured fingers on Vespa’s jaw holding it steady in a way that sent shivers down her spine, her hands strong and slightly calloused and smelling like that fucking perfume -
“Vespa?” Vespa startles, hurriedly reaching for another holster to slip under her shirt.
“Yeah, yeah, keep your hat on, I’m almost done.”
“Wonderful.” Buddy’s silent for approximately five seconds while Vespa adjusts the glass knife strapped to the side of her ribcage so it sits a little more comfortably under her arm. Then- “The blazer fits alright, doesn’t it? Only that we weren’t exactly spoiled for choice when it came to options, so I had to… alter one of mine…” She trails off when Vespa opens the door, words sticking behind her teeth for a second. “Ah.”
“That bad, huh?”
“What? Oh no, no, Vespa, you look…” Buddy’s eyes trace her figure, roaming over every part of the ensemble with something Vespa can almost convince herself is awe. Normally, being looked at that way would make her want to turn around, close the door, and throw on something three sizes too big, but Buddy is- she’s different. She has been since the day they met, and since the day they met again, and Vespa’s fairly sure that she’ll keep being the exception to every scrappy, self-preserving, strike-first-ask-never rule Vespa’s made for herself until the day one of them dies.
“You gonna finish that sentence, Bud?”
“Marvelous,” Buddy murmurs, then coughs into her fist and steps back. Vespa hadn’t even noticed her moving closer. “I must say, I didn’t expect the alterations to work so well on you, but I think I’ve outdone myself.”
“When don’t you?” Vespa laughs nervously, but she has to admit… Buddy’s not wrong. The outfit’s nothing particularly intricate, a deep teal blazer and set of slacks with a black cropped halter top underneath and a couple pieces of silver jewelry to compliment the accents on the suit. It’s surprisingly functional, the cut and material of the whole getup allowing for a full range of motion while pockets in every conceivable place ensure she can load up on as many hidden weapons as possible, but the thing that surprises her the most is how she felt the first time she saw herself in the mirror- good, pretty even, in a way she doesn’t usually. And maybe, just maybe, she’s feeling optimistic enough to believe the way Buddy’s gaze is still resting somewhere around her lips means she feels the same.
Then a timer goes off on Buddy’s comms and they both jump, Buddy scrambling irritably to turn it off while Vespa tries to collect her wits from where they lie hopelessly scattered on the floor. Laid low by a compliment and a long look from a girl that probably doesn’t even like you, Vee, are you serious? she scolds herself, forcing the flush out of her cheeks.
“Coming, darling?” Buddy calls from down the hall, and Vespa startles- she didn’t even realize Buddy’d gotten that far.
“Yeah, yeah. Let’s do this thing.”
Darling, Buddy’s been calling her for the past two months, and it’s not getting old, per se, but it is getting annoying- because Buddy calls everyone darling, from their marks to their contacts to the cashier at the grocery store, and so when Vespa’s traitorous heart runs circles around itself every time the pet name is directed at her, she can’t even tell herself it’s special .
Vespa, on the other hand… she’s heard her name said a thousand times, but the way Buddy says it, like the name of a star, a goddess, something a hundred times more precious and awe-inspiring than ‘Vespa Ilkay’ has ever been before- it feels a bit like seeing the sunrise for the first time after months in space, landing on a new planet and making her way to the highest place she could reach to watch the sky paint itself every color its atmosphere could dream up. Beautiful, in every sense of the word, in every atom of Buddy Aurinko.
It’s also terrifying, because of course it is, because Buddy’s that out of her league, but hell if the feedback doesn’t ring. At least, she’s pretty sure that’s how that sport works.
Buddy’s never quite as eye-scorchingly bright as she is now, though, charming the wits and possibly jewelry off the museum curator. She's gorgeous as ever, gold sparkling around her eyes and her lips and the ends of her braids as she covers her mouth with a hand and laughs. Vespa manages to force out a chuckle before it’s entirely too late, rushing out of her own head to try and catch up with the conversation.
“Oh, Rodney, you’re too much! I have to say, if I’d known people like you were at these openings, we would’ve started coming to them much sooner.”
“Well, Mrs. Kuvat-”
“Please, darling, call me Soliana-”
“ Soliana,” Rodney says, rolling the name around in his mouth with a badly hidden flush high on his cheekbones, “we’d always be more than glad to have you. A-and your wife, of course, Mrs., uh-”
“Esmeray,” Buddy cuts in, saving the man from his floundering with a smile that is somehow both deeply exasperated and overwhelmingly polite. One effortlessly shaped eyebrow entertains the thought of arching higher up her forehead, but ultimately decides against it. “So sorry, Rodney, I could’ve sworn I introduced her.”
“Esmeray,” Rodney repeats, and Vespa stifles a smirk at the fact that she wasn’t the only one who forgot someone’s name. At least she had the decency not to do it to the man’s face. “A lovely name.”
“Thanks, picked it out myself,” Vespa snorts. It’s not true, for once- Buddy picked the names for this job, actually, but she’s never been able to resist the joke, no matter how old it is.
Rodney chuckles politely, but his attention span’s already given in to Buddy’s magnetic pull. “Wonderful, wonderful. So, Soliana, what brings you to this exhibition in particular?”
“The whims of a bored woman and her equally bored wife, for the most part,” Buddy sighs, waving a hand airily. “I could say we’re here to scope out the place before that pretty new exhibit opens- but really, those gorgeous gems were… a last-minute incentive, I suppose. Really, I must admit Esmeray and I just wanted to get out of the house and meet some new people. I hardly regret it, though-” And here she leans in, conspiratorial, across the table, giving Rodney eyes that would have most people tripping over themselves to get to any room she asked, bed or no- “After all, it worked- we’ve met you, haven’t we, darling? And I must say, Rodney, you’re very good company.”
Her hand traces up his arm, brushing past his stupid high-tech watch, and Vespa watches as Rodney falls for her- hook, line, and sinker. His eyes go wide, his face flushes magnificently, and he stammers for a solid 15 seconds before anything even approaching Solar comes out of his mouth. “I, ah- that’s- that’s very, hah, that’s very kind of you, Mrs. Kuvat. I, uh, really should be making the rounds, you know, host properly, I, um-”
“Oh, go on, Rodney,” Buddy pouts, with a forlorn little sigh. Vespa stifles a snort into her drink. “We’ll miss you terribly.”
Rodney somehow flushes even deeper, and manages to get out a goodbye before he turns and hurries off, almost bumping into a waiter in his rush. Buddy watches him go, a quirk tugging at the corners of her lips like a cat with a mouse between its paws. Vespa raises an eyebrow.
“...Soliana really wants a third, huh?”
“Too much?”
“I mean, it worked,” Vespa shrugs, pressing her palm and the key clasped tightly against it to the back of Buddy’s hand under the table. She allows her mouth to quirk into a smile as Buddy’s breaks into an outright grin, pocketing the key to the Oscar Vaughan wing until they need it. “So. Y’know. Can’t say too much about your methods.”
Buddy quirks an eyebrow. “It looks quite a bit like you’d like to say something regardless.”
“What, you want me to?”
“I’m always eager to receive feedback, darling.”
“I don’t get it,” Vespa scowls, shooting a quick glare at Rodney’s back across the room. “Why would you make yourself memorable? Now he’ll be staring at you all night.”
“But too starstruck to suspect me when the police arrive,” Buddy smirks, tapping her temple with one perfectly manicured nail. “That’s the secret to it, Vespa- the goal is to misinform rather than disappear. I can take out these braids, put on a ripped T-shirt and a Martian accent, and Rodney over there will still be so preoccupied with Soliana’s sparkle that he’ll barely give me the time of day.”
“I think I get it,” Vespa hums, nodding more to her drink than to her partner. In crime. Partner in crime. Yeah. “Seems like it’s more your thing than mine, though, even if I wanted to try it, which I don’t.”
“Really? How would you have done it, then?”
“Simple. Sneak by him as a waiter or another partygoer, pick his pocket, and get out. Quick and easy, and I don’t have to make myself look like something I’m not.”
“And what would that be?” Buddy asks, her eyes clear and sharp. Vespa almost wonders if there’s something on the wall behind her heart, the way Buddy seems like she’s staring straight through it. She doesn’t react to the searching gaze, trying for an unaffected shrug instead before giving up and fiddling with the sleeve of her blazer.
“I dunno. Attention-grabbing. Sparkly.” She waves a hand at Buddy’s golden shimmer, earning a laugh and a charming little twirl. When the lights are done gleaming off every brilliant accent on her body, Buddy tilts her head, considering.
“Hm. Fair enough, though- I do think you’re selling yourself short, darling.” Her eyes trail up and down Vespa’s figure in a way that Vespa could almost believe suggests her hand would like to do the same, drinking it in like she hasn’t seen it all a hundred times already. It’s a motion that would look casual enough to the average onlooker, if they even noticed, but Vespa can feel her cheeks heating under Buddy’s gaze. “I’m of the opinion that you can be… very distracting.”
Is Buddy moving closer? It feels like she is, the scent of her perfume spilling into the air around them slow and languid like honey. Vespa’s never been able to place it, somewhere between woodsmoke and amber and rosewater, potent and smelling of faraway escapades in a way that makes Vespa’s head spin. Right now it clings to her skin like the sticky residue of a lipstick kiss, sneaking between her parted lips when she sucks in a gasp to fill her lungs with its heady presence. She’s dizzy with it, frozen in place like an undeer in headlights, staring like a moron until after what feels like forever, her voice finally decides to let itself back into her mouth. “Oh. Uh. I- I mean-” Pull it together, Vee. “Y-You too, I guess.” Fuck.
Before she can completely disintegrate from embarrassment, Buddy takes mercy on her, breaking eye contact and glancing over at Rodney again, leaving Vespa to grasp at the tail-end ghosts of the fluttery feeling in her chest moments ago. “Now’s as good a time as any, I think. Shall we go?”
Vespa forces her head out of the clouds in time to nod, turning to slip, invisible, through the crowd. It’s a shame, she thinks longingly, slinking behind a woman holding two flutes of champagne, that she’s vowed not to drink on the job- she could really fucking use it right now.
Buddy catches up with her as soon as she rounds the corner outside the ballroom, somehow quiet in her 5-inch heels against wood flooring. One of the many miracles of Buddy Aurinko, Vespa thinks idly, half her mind on the next step of the heist and the other half on the woman falling into step beside her, who looks…
Off. It’s not something most strangers would notice, but Vespa’s learned a few of the subtle tells that sneak into Buddy’s usual habits so she can figure out how to soothe them when they get back home. A slight bend in her right knee that doesn’t go away no matter what she does means a heat pack warmed in the microwave while Buddy bitches about her legs from the couch, blinks that come a little too fast and a little too hard mean lights off and the weighted blanket that sits on the end of her bed, a sharp inhale through her nose and an inwards curl sticking to her shoulders like the sharp, tacky brambleweed that used to snag at Vespa’s clothes every fall means a long, warm hug and a good distraction. Small things that stand for bigger ones, the little bits of herself Buddy lets out as code when she can’t say what she really means. Vespa’s not sure what these tells add up to, but she can guess- Buddy’s stride is as sure as ever, but there’s a waver to her hands, a hesitance to the way her lips press together in silence instead of waxing poetic about their target this time.
It makes sense, if she thinks about it- it’s a riskier heist than usual, just striding through empty halls like this, and they really didn’t have long enough to plan because the buyer, some mob boss on Mercury with a demeanor that screamed nobody’d ever told him to shut up, decided he wanted the damned necklace stolen opening night instead of any reasonable time. As cocky as Buddy’s been, neither of them like going in blind like this, and Vespa knows it. She can’t do anything about what they’re up against, she knows that too, but… maybe she can make it a little less intimidating.
“So, what’s so special about these jewels?” she asks, trying to make her tone as casual and dismissive as possible while still sounding like she actually wants an answer.
Buddy looks a little miffed. “I would’ve thought you would have researched the thing we came here to steal,” she starts, wary, and Vespa shrugs.
“So I didn’t do the assigned reading. Sue me.”
“Vespa-” Buddy’s looking worried now, which means this is backfiring, and Vespa feels her organs sulk in on themselves. Dammit.
“Fancy necklace, made by some dude on Callisto who died after he finished it, worth way too many creds for you to waste your money on unless you’re rich enough to buy it, in which case woe and misfortune get your ass and you become one more sucker in a long string of tragic events that’s followed the necklace since its creation,” she groans out in one breath, crossing her arms and looking away. “I know the basics. Give me some credit.”
“Alright, then.” Buddy quirks an eyebrow at her. “What gaps can I fill in for you then, Vespa, because it really does seem like you’ve got it all down already.”
“I…” Vespa flounders, grimacing at how wary her voice sounds. “Uh. I don’t know. Any… stories about it you like, or something?”
“I’m not sure what you mean,” Buddy returns, and Vespa stifles a grumble into the corner of her mouth.
“Look, you always- I know there’s, y’know, an urban legend around this thing. I know you like talking about that kind of stuff, and I like hearing it from you better than some boring-as-hell Kiwipedia page burning holes in my eyes at two AM. So…” Vespa makes a vague gesture, and finally, Buddy catches on. Her eyes light up, brighter than they were the entire time she was talking to anyone in that ballroom, which… god, it’s cute.
“Well, if you’re to be properly informed about the mission, I suppose I haven’t got a choice, have I?” Buddy asks, a grin slowly taking the place of the forced curve of her lips earlier, and Vespa grins back despite herself.
“I’m all ears, Bud. Regale me.”
“Delighted to, darling. Now, where to begin...”
Nobody should look that beautiful five seconds before launching into a lecture about a cursed necklace that’s left twenty-seven people dead and counting (Vespa did do the reading, thank you very much). It doesn’t seem like the universe cares too much about should, though, not when it comes to Buddy Aurinko and the glint in her eyes as she describes the grisly fate of the Lady of Esterquire in 2070. Vespa almost doesn’t want to admit it, but it’s a weight off, seeing her slip into her element again like she never left. And if… whatever is in her eyes when she looks at Vespa makes her stomach do somersaults in a way she didn’t even know she could like, hell, who is she to say no to it?
By the time they reach the room they’re looking for, Buddy seems to feel better, whatever passing insecurity had snagged on her usual bravado long since lost to the wind. She barely even bats an eye at the veritable wall of motion sensors filling the room with their gazes, simply fixing her eyes on the control panel and its blinking lights on the opposite wall of the room. “Step aside, darling, I’ve got this.”
Buddy sweeps past Vespa in a flash of gold, already adjusting the setting on her blaster as Vespa gets ready to play lookout. She knows she’s supposed to be watching the hallway, but for just a moment, she can’t resist a glance over her shoulder.
And there she is, in all her glory- Buddy Aurinko in a rare moment of stillness, all her glowing energy condensed to the indicator light above her left thumb and the confident glint in her eye. For a second, everything is frozen, Buddy squinting through the sight and Vespa wide-eyed at the sight of her.
Then Buddy curses under her breath and lowers her gun. Vespa’s heart leaps into her throat, already rifling through backup plans before she even opens her mouth. “What? What’s wrong?”
“Plasma-proof coating on the control panel. They planned for this. Damn it, damn it…!” Buddy sighs, leaning back against the wall and brushing her hair out of her face. “This complicates things. I’m sure I could hack into it if I had time, but we're already cutting it short… I can try, at least, but you’ll have to cover me. Vespa? …Vespa?”
“Huh?” Vespa looks back over her shoulder, shaking her eyes from where they’re locked on the opposite end of the display room. “Sorry, Bud. I think I might know what to do, though.”
“What, are you going to throw a knife at it?” Buddy scoffs. Vespa just takes her stance, slipping a hand through the hole in her pocket to shimmy a knife from a hidden holster on her thigh. Buddy’s face falls. “Vespa, you can’t be serious.”
“Do I look like I’m joking, Bud?” Vespa twirls the knife- a personal favorite, Rangian steel with a gentle curve to its dappled blade- in her fingers, reminding herself of its weight.
“It’s fifty-four feet, Vespa-”
“Really? Huh, my guess was fifty. That helps. Thanks.” Vespa can’t help the grin creeping onto her lips as she lines up the shot. Fifty feet is a decently tricky shot for a blaster, but it’s near impossible for a knife.
Then again, something about Buddy Aurinko’s eyes on her- even incredulous as they are now- makes her feel like doing the impossible.
“Vespa,” Buddy splutters again, in something definitely trying to be a warning tone.
“Buddy,” Vespa smirks back, and throws.
Time doesn’t slow down for her. The knife just whirls end over end, and then buries itself hilt-deep in the sparking remains of the control panel.
“Hell yeah.”
Vespa looks back at Buddy, who looks…
Oh, wow.
Buddy Aurinko is staring at her, eyes wide and lips parted, like she’s just watched a supernova explode instead of Vespa Ilkay hitting, admittedly, a pretty tough shot.
“Heh. Not bad?” She asks after a few too many seconds of silence, because something’s gotta give if they’re gonna steal this thing before they run the risk of getting caught. Buddy just shakes her head slowly, a smile dawning across her face.
“Vespa, that was… incredible. I’m sorry I doubted you.” Vespa turns back to her post as lookout, if only so that Buddy won’t see the flush rising in her cheeks.
“Yeah, well. Gotta pull my weight here somehow, right?”
“Oh, Vespa, I can assure you that will never be an issue.” Buddy’s heels click across the floor behind her as she approaches the display case, shuffling an actually ridiculous number of lock-picking tools from seemingly nowhere as she goes. “Now, if you'll allow me just a moment, darling…”
For a museum this infamous, Vespa really would’ve expected them to up the security on their display cases. Buddy only has to work the lock for a couple minutes before there’s a click, the slight squeal of hinges, and a delighted gasp.
“Well, aren’t you gorgeous? Come here, why don't you?” A few clinks as Buddy replaces the necklace with a replica, more footsteps, then- “Unpleasant noise incoming, darling,” the screech of metal as Buddy wrenches her knife from the sparking remains of the control panel.
At the noise, Vespa shifts uncomfortably on her feet, looking up and down the hall. “Guards’ll be coming soon, Bud. We should move.”
“Yes, yes, I’m coming,” Buddy huffs, stepping up beside Vespa with her dagger outstretched. “I’m assuming you’d like this back?”
“I'd appreciate it, yeah.” Vespa grins in spite of herself, tucking the knife back into its sheath. “Everything as shiny as you thought it’d be?”
“Oh, more than.” Buddy smirks, and pulls her other hand from behind her back. “Ta-da.”
The pictures hadn’t done it justice- even in the flat light of the doorway, the necklace practically glows in Buddy’s palm, a miniature star shifting and glimmering so beautifully it almost hurts to look at. It really is beautiful, careful multi-stranded braids of gold and silver looping around opals and diamonds and gems from planets Vespa wouldn’t even know the name of, all leading to the central point of the whole piece: an emerald the size of her fist, so green it’s nearly black, like a lake of legend with a siren or something waiting at the bottom.
It’s only when Buddy finally withdraws it that Vespa realizes she’s been staring. “Well, uh. I can see where the ‘cursed’ part comes from. That thing’s spooky.”
“Really? I thought it evoked more of a ‘superstitious charm’.” Buddy shrugs, tucking the necklace into her cleavage. “Perhaps I’ve just got a type, then, hm?”
“I thought you’d have better taste than throwing yourself at some pretty curse,” Vespa mutters, rolling her eyes over the overwhelming clamor of don’t read into it don’t read into it don’t read into it that rises up whenever Buddy’s gaze lingers on her a bit too long. “Just ‘cause you put makeup on a snake doesn’t mean it won’t bite.”
“I wouldn’t-” Buddy starts to say, but pulls herself back at the last moment. “Nevermind. Let’s get back to the party before Mr. Harrison starts to wonder where we’ve gone, hm?”
“What, he’s not Rodney anymore?” Vespa snorts, mocking Soliana Kuvat’s simpering tone. Secretly, she’s glad for the change in topic, but she’ll be damned if she says that much about her conversational insecurities out loud. “Bet he’ll be disappointed to hear that.”
“Oh, what’s the matter, Vespa? Jealous?” Vespa rounds on her with a wide-eyed glare, but Buddy’s already giggling, both her hands raised in mock surrender. “Just teasing, darling, just teasing.”
“Whatever.” Vespa stays silent as they reach the entrance of the wing, bouncing on her toes while Buddy locks the necessary doors behind them. Her heart rate’s still way higher than it should be just from a stupid joke, and it takes every ounce of restraint in her body not to storm away and hide for a bit. She might just do that when they get back to the ship, lock herself in her room and sharpen a few of the shitty old knives she keeps stocked in the back of her closet for times like these until she feels a bit better. Until her head’s just blank, rid of Buddy’s stupid sparkly eyes and her infuriatingly cute smile and the panic in her voice- wait, what?
“Someone’s coming,” Buddy’s whispering, glancing down the hallway in the direction they were headed. Vespa’s breath catches in her chest. She’s already looking around, but she knows what she’ll find- there aren’t any doors in this section of the museum, not even a supply closet. Art lines the walls instead, all beautiful and very expensive and really fucking annoying at this exact second.
She turns back to Buddy, about to suggest a vent or something, and then Buddy’s hands are on her shoulders and she’s leaning into Vespa’s space and saying something that Vespa’s brain is momentarily too overloaded to hear.
“Huh?” she breathes, and Buddy’s eyebrows inch closer together.
“I don’t want to do anything you’d be uncomfortable with, darling, but unless you have a better suggestion there are really no exit routes around, I studied the blueprints and-”
“Bud, just- go back a second.” Vespa can hear the footsteps getting closer to the corner, every muffled thump making the walls feel that much claustrophobically closer. “What are you asking me to do?”
Buddy exhales roughly, worrying at her bottom lip with her teeth and it is not the time, Vee, except maybe it is because the next words out of Buddy’s mouth are, “Vespa, can I kiss you?”
Oh .
“Yes,” Vespa breathes, barely even thinking, and then Buddy’s pushing her up against the wall- not pushing, really, guiding, because even now Buddy is still somehow gentle with her, and oh, there it is.
Buddy tastes like persimmons. It’s her lip gloss, probably, sticky-sweet and transferring golden flecks onto Vespa’s teeth, achingly warm and saccharine and feeling like summer on her lips. She’s holding Vespa so softly, tenderly, even, like the body she’s pressed herself against is something holy that she has to touch the right way, like Vespa is something worth worshipping.
The thought sends a shiver through her. Vespa Ilkay’s never been treated like she’s delicate before. It’s… nicer than she would’ve thought.
Hesitantly, she loops her arms around Buddy’s shoulders, crossing her wrists behind her neck and leaning in a bit further and stars, the soft little sound Buddy makes at that is going to be stuck in her head for weeks.
Everything falls away, the wall at her back and whoever’s around the corner and the whole damned heist, really, because Buddy Aurinko is kissing her and no matter what else is happening, it can wait.
Then a voice cuts through the air between them, and her time is up.
“Excuse me? Excuse me, you can’t be back h- o-oh.” And who rounds the corner but Rodney fucking Harrison in all his stammering glory, face flushed red as a Rangian rafflesia bloom. “M-Mrs. Kuvat, I-”
Buddy smirks into the kiss and scrapes Vespa’s bottom lip with her teeth one more time before she pulls away, and Vespa forgets how to function for a solid few seconds. When she comes to, Buddy’s shifting her hands to Vespa’s waist and smiling at Rodney with an expression that could almost be called sheepish, if it were on anyone else’s face. Vespa only half-cares- she just wants it back on hers. “...my beloved Esmeray and I needed to get away from all the noise for a minute or two, and one thing led to another, and, you know…”
“Of course, Mrs. Kuvat, I understand,” Rodney replies stiffly, and Vespa stifles a snort, sliding into her role as smug, besotted wife with no small amount of satisfaction. The way his words trip and fall flat on their face when she presses herself close to Buddy’s side and smirks possessively at him is just wonderful. “This- uh, this area is off-limits to guests until the end of the night, though, so-”
“Yes, Rodney, I know. Terribly sorry, again.”
“It’s not an issue, Mrs. Kuvat, I assure you, just-” Rodney gestures vaguely behind him. “Head on back, alright?”
“Yes, yes.” Buddy nods, pulling away and slipping her hand into Vespa’s. “Shall we go, love?”
“Sounds great,” Vespa replies, a little distantly. Without Buddy’s warmth crowded against her, she feels colder than she should. Even with their fingers still interlaced, she’s lightyears away again.
It was all for show, she reminds herself as they pass Rodney, twisting the knife into the dumb bit of her that’s yearned for Buddy’s light since the day they met. It was never gonna be anything else.
She’s used to the sting that comes with the reminder. That doesn’t mean it hurts any less.
The rest of the heist is uneventful. They leave before Rodney even unveils the exhibit, slipping into the car with a murmured excuse about Soliana being a lightweight while the party moves on without them. The conversation on the ride back is mostly one-sided, Buddy chattering to fill the space while Vespa stares out the window and makes the appropriate noises of agreement. A part of her yearns to try again, to ask Buddy to pull this car over so she can kiss her like she means it, or even just to crack a joke so she can hear Buddy’s laugh, not the polite little one she uses on marks but the real one Vespa hears during planning sessions and stream nights where Buddy tips her head back and snorts a bit through her nose.
Instead, she presses her face against the smooth glass and looks up at the stars in silence.
They have a tradition for nights like this, celebrating heists gone off without a hitch, and if you don’t count Vespa’s breathing then this does technically count as one of those. Buddy will grab them something to drink, anything from top-shelf liquor stolen from the event bar to a 10-cred bottle of wine from the spaceport shop, and the two of them will share a toast to good fortune. Sometimes they’ll put on a stream, something hilariously bad with plenty of explosions and medical inaccuracies for Vespa to nitpick. Other times, if their getaway was grand enough, they’ll turn on the news and watch the local authorities make statements they’ll never be able to follow up on, so Buddy can giggle and preen and ironically cheers the chief of police vowing he’ll have the two of them in custody by the end of the month. It makes Vespa nervous sometimes, the way she just tempts fate like it won’t bite eventually- but hell, she makes it look good, and the coffee table’s made of nice, sturdy cedar she can knock twice on whenever Buddy inevitably tries to jinx them.
Usually, it’s nice. Vespa had made her superstitions clear from the start, expecting rolled eyes or at best ignoring them completely, but Buddy’d just grinned and played along. Little rituals like these help when she feels like misfortune is about to sink its teeth into her neck, and Buddy makes sure there’s plenty of them to go around. Usually, the clink of glasses and Buddy settling in next to her on the couch means they made it home free, that she can relax just a little, watch Buddy slouch and sigh and bicker with a character on-screen. Usually, Buddy hasn’t kissed her less than an hour prior.
So, the night’s not going great this time around.
Behind her, she can hear the noises of Buddy meandering around the kitchen, holding a bottle of champagne and two glasses in her right hand while her left sorts through leftovers in the fridge. The noise is supposed to be comforting, but all she can think about are Buddy’s lips on hers, the way her voice had savored the word beloved, her eyes shining in awe after the knife throw, how she’d-
“Vespa, darling? Should I heat up the curry from the other night or just not bother?” Buddy calls, making Vespa jump.
“I’m good without, I guess. We still have that black sugar popcorn, right?”
“You know, I’d think the doctor on board the ship would be a little more concerned about well-rounded meals,” Buddy teases, but the cabinet door’s already swinging open and bags and boxes are being shuffled around. “Ah-ha! But yes, we do.”
“Well-rounded meals can wait until tomorrow,” Vespa grouses, rolling her eyes. For a few seconds she stays in that space, the light-hearted banter and gradually more familiar domesticity of it all warming her cheeks before the alcohol gets a chance to. Then her face falls, and she knows what she has to say. “Buddy… listen.” She twists her hands in the fabric of her pockets, trying her best not to fidget and failing. “I- I know tonight worked, we got the thing, whatever, but… I can’t do this.”
The quiet clinks of glass behind her stop, and there’s a few moments of tense silence before Buddy speaks. “Do what, darling?”
“This con. The-” She growls, grabbing for the words she’d painstakingly arranged just seconds ago before a strong wind sent them scattered across the galaxy like very frustrated confetti. “The... married thing. I know you like those kinds of cons, the acting or whatever, but… I don’t know if I can do it. Not if-”
Not if what? Not if every trailing glance of Buddy’s fingers had taken her heart with them? Not if when Buddy was kissing her, she’d never wanted to stop? Not if playing couple was always going to hurt this much, face-to-face with the future she fantasized about more often than she’d like to admit and yet constantly reminded that it was all for show? “I just can’t.”
The couch dips next to her as Buddy sits down, placing the champagne and the popcorn on the table with as little sound as possible. “Alright. I understand.”
Vespa looks up, a bit startled. “What?”
“If you don’t like those kinds of cons, we’ll never do one again,” Buddy says, shrugging, like it’s that easy. It… probably is that easy, now that Vespa’s head has cleared a bit. “I never want to make you uncomfortable, Vespa.”
“Oh.” Vespa nods. “Uh, okay. Thanks.”
“Of course.”
Silence falls between them, awkward and confused and fully aware of both those facts. Vespa can feel Buddy shooting sideways glances at her to see if they land, debating which change of tact might be able to steamroll the gap between them into nothing.
“Am I really that bad a kisser, darling?” she tries eventually, in a valiant attempt to lighten the mood, and Vespa forces out a strained laugh.
“What? No, you were- it was- um. No. Yeah.” Smooth. She kicks herself internally, trying and failing not to sink into herself with every second of painfully awkward silence that follows. After what feels like forever, Buddy sighs and turns towards her again, any tense attempt at lightheartedness sliding off her face like an oil slick breaking for something rising to the surface.
“In all seriousness, Vespa… anything I said or did tonight that made you uncomfortable, kiss included, I am deeply sorry. If you don’t want to tell me what, exactly, it was, I won’t press, but I’d… just like to let you know you can tell me, and I’d like it if you did so I can take it into consideration.”
“It wasn’t you!” Vespa blurts, way too quickly, and curses herself again for the reaction. “No, you, ah- you didn’t do anything. You’re fine, Bud, promise.”
“Really?” Buddy’s brow furrows. One shoulder slumps a bit lower than the other and her braids fall from their former balance, cascading down to somewhere around her knees as she leans forward to catch Vespa’s eye. “If it was, you could let me know, darling-”
“It’s not you. Really, it’s not.”
“Then-” Buddy’s voice stretches just that much thinner, like the fabric being pulled between her fingers as she fidgets with a ruffle criscrossing her lap. “Alright. Just- so long as you know you could.”
She sounds worried, is the worst thing about all of this- like below the champagne and the lip gloss and the signature Buddy Aurinko bluster, she’s still so sure she’s hurt Vespa somehow, and Vespa feels lost because-
Because, what is she meant to say to that? The truth? She can’t imagine saying anything else, but she doesn’t know how to say the things she really wants to- how does she say you’re a better kisser than you give yourself credit for, when you smile at me it feels like I’m being set on fire, please don’t stop looking at me like that, like I’ve just put the stars in the sky for you, please don’t ever stop in a way that won’t make Buddy Aurinko’s nose wrinkle and her lip curl?
It’s not like she’s much to consider, anyways. Even like this, still dolled up from the heist, all the harsh, sharp angles that’ve made up Vespa Ilkay from the day she was born turned into someone almost beautiful, she still can’t help but feel herself pale in comparison to the woman next to her. But…
Buddy’s still looking at her like that, no matter how little the voice at the back of her head says she deserves it. She’s… looked at her like that since the day they met the second time, that same awed glint just as bright in a back alley gleaming off the edge of a blade as it was against the gilded walls of the museum, right after she’d given Vespa the best kiss of her life.
Vespa’s a lot of things, but just this once, just for tonight, she won’t let coward be one of them. She takes a deep breath, tries to let a bit of Buddy’s courage fill her lungs along with the heady scent of her perfume, and shoves the words off her tongue before they can fester any longer.
“Alright, then. It feels like it’s about time you knew, anyways. I, uh… I like you. Romantically. And that meant… pretending we were together when we weren't hurt. This doesn’t have to change anything, if you don’t want it to. I- I like having you as a friend more than a… romantic prospect, or whatever- but that’s why. So. Yeah.”
Buddy stares at her for a long, terrible moment. Then her lips press together and her eyebrows raise slightly, and Vespa’s heart sinks- Buddy’s holding in a goddamn laugh. The involuntary flash of adoration that shoots through her at the sight of that familiar gleam in Buddy’s eyes only makes her that much more aware of the tears ready to well just behind hers.
Maybe the betrayal shows on her face, because Buddy’s falls like a stone on Jupiter. “Vespa, I-”
“No, you know what?” Vespa shoots to her feet, fighting to keep the quaver out of her voice. “If you’re just gonna fucking laugh at me, I take it back. Goodnight, Buddy.” She turns, storming towards the door.
“Vespa, that’s not what I meant, I-” Buddy’s scrambled to her feet and is still regaining her balance even as she reaches out, and a childish, vindictive part of Vespa wants to laugh at the sight of Buddy struggling in those six-inch heels. A much larger part of her is still hurt, and more ready to run than anything else, and both of those things tug at the edges of her even as she stops in her tracks.
“Then what the hell did you mean?” It comes out sharper than she wants it to, and Buddy winces.
“I didn’t mean to offend, Vespa, I promise, just-” The expression on Buddy’s face is so many things at once that it would take Vespa a decade to untangle it, but thankfully, she doesn’t have to. “I… may have assumed you already knew I felt the same.”
Vespa’s jaw drops.
“... what?”
“In my defense,” Buddy laughs, and this time it doesn’t feel harsh- it never did, not really, and that’s more of a relief than Vespa will ever admit- “Our second meeting was you pinning me to a wall with a knife at my throat, and agreeing we might just be better as a pair, which…” She shakes her head, and when she looks up, the nervous half-smile starting to tug at her lips is more precious than any of the beaming grins she’d given a single socialite this evening. “If I’m being honest, Vespa, I really just thought you would rather take things slow.”
“You-” Vespa’s head is spinning, and she has to steady herself with a hand on the doorway, a hundred overfamiliar gestures over the past months suddenly clicking into place. “You- you’ve liked me? This whole time?”
“To say the least, yes.”
“Why?”
“Well, that’s the million-cred question, isn’t it?” She tilts her head to the side and smiles, warm and as earnest as Vespa’s ever seen her, and it feels like sunlight. “At first, I must admit, it was a bit shallow- I saw you in that bar and, quite frankly, you took my breath away. Your eyes, the way you carried yourself, that proud smirk you wore, like for just a little while you knew you could have the whole universe at your feet.” She takes another step forward, and almost unconsciously, Vespa does too, the two of them pulled into each other’s orbit. “And when we fought- you were beautiful, Vespa.”
“I was trying to stab you,” Vespa splutters, and Buddy giggles a little breathlessly.
“Oh, and you were doing a wonderful job of it.” Her hand comes up to brush over Vespa’s cheek- hesitantly at first, as if asking permission, and Vespa answers by leaning into it.
“Wh- what’s so attractive about a fight, anyways?” she asks, still a little dumbstruck.
“You. As simply as I can put it, Vespa- you. I- I don’t-” Buddy trips, stumbles over her words, and Vespa brings a hand up to cover hers. She’ll look back on this moment a thousand times in the many years of her life to come, view all the little shifts in expression and tremblings of Buddy’s fingers through every emotion she can muster, but right now all she feels is startled, because Buddy, Buddy Aurinko, is tripping over her words because of Vespa, and that’s… a bit of a rush, if she’s being honest.
“You don’t have to- it’s fine, Bud, I was teasing.”
“But I want to tell you, darling,” Buddy breathes, and it’s definitely not Vespa’s imagination this time- she’s leaning in, now, stealing the breath from Vespa’s lungs without even trying. “You deserve to hear it from me, as many times as there are ways in the universe to say it.”
“Say what?” Everything else feels like it’s gone quiet, all of the ship and all of the universe outside it, too, holding its breath as Vespa looks Buddy in the eyes and asks. “Just tell me, Bud. Whatever words you have. They don’t have to be perfect.”
Buddy gulps and nods. A tremor shakes against Vespa’s cheekbone. “That you’re… gorgeous, Vespa. And clever, and kinder than you say you are, and that I’ve felt better with you at my side these past months than I have over the rest of my entire life. And that I… I like you, and if you’d like to give this a go, I would very much like that as well.” She pauses, reverence and worry warring in her eyes. “But, of course, if you wouldn’t- none of this has to mean anything if you don’t want it to. I understand I made unfair assumptions and-”
Vespa almost laughs. “Oh, save it, Bud.”
She rises up on her tiptoes, and Buddy’s string of disclaimers cuts off real quick.
For as long as they took to get to it, the kiss itself is messy, a bit fumbled, lips missing the mark and noses bumping a couple times until they get it right. It feels nervous, no, giddy, and Vespa’s grinning so wide it’s almost getting in the way of the kiss, but Buddy is too, and then one of them is giggling and then they both are and then it’s just the two of them, holding tightly together in their own tiny bubble and laughing so hard they can barely breathe. She feels like a teenager, almost, that same wide-eyed lurch in her gut dissolving into something vibrant and fluttery when Buddy pulls her in again.
Eventually, long after her arms loop over Buddy’s shoulders and one of Buddy’s hands migrates to her waist, after the kisses slow into something a bit less excited and a bit more appreciative, Vespa breaks away for a second to stifle a laugh into her shoulder.
“We kinda suck at this, don’t we?”
“I wouldn’t say that.”
“You thought-” Vespa almost starts giggling again, but she manages to hold it together this time- “You thought we were dating, for three months.”
Buddy flushes, but the flustered smile gracing her lips doesn’t go away. “In my defense, Vespa, I’m not sure how you didn’t.”
“Your default epithet is darling, Bud, I think there was some sorta grey area for ‘us’ to fall into.” That gets a laugh out of her, a real one. Vespa didn’t realize how much she’d missed it.
“Fair enough, I suppose.” Buddy pauses, her expression stilling, and Vespa stills in turn. “There… is something I have to ask you now.”
“What?”
“Vespa Ilkay,” and the serious expression breaks, like she can’t hold it on her face for more than a moment because why would she, when she could be smiling at Vespa like that- “Would you do me the honor of being my girlfriend?”
“You dork,” Vespa snorts, rolling her eyes.
“It’s a serious question, Vespa! I’d hate to have another miscommunication, you know, I’ve heard making one’s intentions clear can be very important among partners in crime-”
“Yes,” Vespa interrupts with a fond sigh, cutting off Buddy’s sociology-student monologue so the laughter shaking underneath the words can come to the surface. “Yes, Buddy Aurinko, I will be your girlfriend. Something something, seal the deal,” and then she’s pulling Buddy in by the lapels again and they’re both laughing and it’s perfect.
Vespa’s smile clicks against Buddy’s, slow and sappy, still tasting like summer. It’s just starting to dawn on her that she can have this, that she has for months now, without the ship collapsing to pieces around her. Maybe she’s not cursed after all.
It’ll probably take her years to stop flinching, to uncurl fully from her defensive slouch- it’s still second nature to hide, packing herself into the tightest spaces so all the threats of the universe overlook her, and none of this, no matter how amazing, will change that overnight.
But, Vespa thinks, standing up a little straighter to connect their lips again, it’s a good start.